


wonder whose arms will hold you good and tight

by Waywarder



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Kissing, M/M, Mistletoe, New Year's Eve, holiday fluff, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-10 19:21:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28492314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waywarder/pseuds/Waywarder
Summary: By December 31, the bookshop was still splendidly decorated for Christmas. (Aziraphale could never bear to take things down right away.) Even several blocks away, Crowley could make out the bright lights- white and multi-coloured (Aziraphale could never bear to choose)- sparkling from the shop windows.Crowley grinned. As far as he was concerned, Aziraphale would never have to choose between two things he wanted ever again. Aziraphale would have anything, everything, so long as Crowley walked the Earth.Some quiet holiday softness for two eternal beings who desperately deserve it.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 90
Collections: Good Snowmens Winter Gift Exchange





	wonder whose arms will hold you good and tight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [minervamoon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/minervamoon/gifts).



> Happy Snowmens Exchange, Minerva! Some mistletoe, cold-Crowley softness for you!

By December 31, the bookshop was still splendidly decorated for Christmas. (Aziraphale could never bear to take things down right away.) Even several blocks away, Crowley could make out the bright lights- white and multi-coloured (Aziraphale could never bear to choose)- sparkling from the shop windows. 

Crowley grinned. As far as he was concerned, Aziraphale would never have to choose between two things he wanted ever again. Aziraphale would have anything, everything, so long as Crowley walked the Earth. 

It was well into the evening now, just a few hours away from midnight. Snow and wind flurried around the demon and he shivered in his very fashionable coat and scarf.

Aziraphale and Crowley spent practically all their time together now, but each of them would never deny how much this bit still meant to them. The meeting up. Just as they had done for centuries and centuries; that thrilling moment of hearing a set of familiar footsteps just outside the door, that hitch breath of recognizing a miracle just off to the side, the inherent promise of company and of happiness. So, even now, they played at discovering one another. At letting their faces break apart in a delighted smile at the first glimpse of the other. 

It was part of why Crowley sometimes chose to walk the path to Aziraphale’s shop instead of driving it. On the one hand, he could barely wait to be by Aziraphale’s side again. On the other hand, he relished the opportunity to safely daydream of the angel’s face, to discover and explore fancy treats and trinkets in shop windows along the way, to finally have the luxury of taking his time. Aziraphale would be there now. 

He would always be there.

There was, unhappily, one slight problem with these decadent, thoughtful walks taken in the wintertime:

By the time Crowley’s hand reached out to finally rap against the bookshop door, he was absolutely bloody freezing.

Crowley’s teeth chattered in his skull as he hurriedly drew his hand back into his pocket. There were drawbacks to being inherently reptilian and lack of thermoregulation was one of them. Still, he couldn’t help the smile that flooded his face as he heard the even-now-surprised “Oh!”, the clink of a teacup against a cluttered surface, the scurrying of polished Oxfords across the bookshop floor… 

The door swung open and Crowley was nearly knocked over by the beaming, overwhelming delight of the angel before him.

“Crowley,” Aziraphale breathed softly, his eyes shimmering with cheer. 

“A-angel.”

(Curse his traitorous molars.)

Aziraphale’s face immediately crinkled with worry. “Oh, my dear! Did you walk here, you silly serpent? Do get inside at once!”

Aziraphale wrapped a hand around Crowley’s coat-clad bicep and drew him gently but firmly into the warm shop. Crowley hissed a sigh of relief as the bright coziness of the decorated shop and of Aziraphale himself began to work its way back into his freezing bones and joints.

“Oh, darling,” Aziraphale murmured, terribly fond. “Why would you walk through the cold?”

“I like looking forward to you, angel,” Crowley confessed. (Curse his traitorous heart.)

Aziraphale’s smile could have lit every Christmas tree in London. He took Crowley’s hands in how own and drew him deeper into the shop, eventually leading him to the sofa. Aziraphale sat first and beckoned Crowley into his lap, never releasing his cold hands. Aziraphale worked his thumbs in little circles over the flesh of Crowley’s hands, reviving him. Crowley sighed again. At the contact, at the company, at having finally arrived, at knowing in his guts he never had to leave again if they didn’t want.

“I missed you, sweetheart,” Aziraphale sighed himself against Crowley’s neck.

Crowley let out a chilled chuckle at that. “You saw me this morning, Aziraphale.”

“I said what I said.”

They had no grand plans for the evening. In their defense, after saving the World Itself, nothing sounds quite as grand as a comfortable night at home. Reluctantly, Aziraphale eventually slipped out from beneath Crowley and gently slid the coat from the demon’s shoulders, the scarf from his lovely neck. Aziraphale wandered away into the kitchen just long enough to retrieve two mugs of hot, fragrant apple cider. He returned to the sofa and pushed one mug into Crowley’s still-shaking fingers. They clinked the mugs together over no other toast but the promises made in the meeting of their gazes. 

_This year, next year, forever, always._

Beneath a quilt, they snuggled up shoulder to shoulder and sipped their cider. Crowley slunk down on the couch enough to rest his head on Aziraphale’s shoulder. For a long while, they just sipped and snuggled and gazed at the decorations.

“A triumph, angel,” Crowley declared, the cider and closeness succeeding in bringing him back to himself. “They’re the best decorations in the neighborhood.”

“Mmm,” Aziraphale took another humble draught of his cider, but Crowley detected the bit of pink rising around his ears. 

“‘S missing something, though.”

Aziraphale choked and sputtered around his cider. Crowley nearly collapsed onto his side as Aziraphale leapt up indignantly, the quilt cascading to the floor.

“Whatever are you suggesting, Crowley?” The angel pouted. “Why, I’ve got trees and jingle bells and reindeer and poinsettias and everything!”

Crowley rose to his feet, warmed and powered now by his own adoration. He took the few steps between himself and Aziraphale. He grinned at the dismayed, flustered angel before snapping his fingers.

‘S missing something,” Crowley repeated insistently, tilting his head up.

Aziraphale followed the demon’s gaze to the air above them. A sprig of mistletoe floated just above and between them. An invitation. A promise. Aziraphale first gasped, then clapped his hands together, then punched Crowley in the arm.

“Ow! What was that for?”

“It is New Year’s Eve, Crowley! Where was this handy trick at Christmastime?”

Crowley took another step forward and slipped his arms around Aziraphale’s waist, drawing him even closer. Despite his slight-outrage, Aziraphale let out a little gasp. 

“Aw, c’mon, angel. Couldn’t risk any customers getting the wrong idea, could I?”

“You menace,” Aziraphale said, but he did so with a laugh. 

“Storied Christmas traditions are at stake here, angel,” Crowley wisely pointed out. 

“And so they are.”

The first kiss (again) was slow and deep, Crowley’s arms strong around Aziraphale’s waist, Aziraphale’s hands clutching at Crowley’s lapels, the mistletoe beckoning them on. After months at it, there was nothing desperate or frantic about this one. Snow fell outside, coating the saved world in promise and in hope, and, within a warm, saved bookshop, Aziraphale and Crowley kissed like two beings who knew so certainly they would be kissing again.

And again.

And again.

(And they did.)

At Crowley’s silent command, the mistletoe glided through the air above them as they made their way back to the sofa. As they sank back down on to the cushions, wrapped in one another’s arms.

“I love you,” Aziraphale managed to draw his lips away long enough to say. 

“I love you, too, angel,” Crowley replied, stroking his fingers through the cloud-curls before him. 

Aziraphale closed the slight distance between them, parting his damp lips as he pressed them against Crowley’s. Crowley brought both of his hands up to Aziraphale’s flushed face, willing his love to seep from his fingertips and into the angel. 

Know it. Feel it. Never forget how much I love you. 

Aziraphale’s own hand drifted up to stroke against the skin of Crowley’s throat as he slid his tongue into Crowley’s mouth. Crowley moaned at the deeper kiss, twisting his hips to get even closer to Aziraphale on the sofa. 

“I love you,” Crowley gasped out first this time. Would it ever feel less important to say?

“I know, darling, I know,” Aziraphale assured him in between kisses placed across Crowley’s neck and collarbone.

“‘I know?’” Crowley laughed shakily. “Are you Han Solo now?”

“I assure you I have no idea who that is.”

“New Year’s Resolution for you, angel. We are watching Star Wars. First thing tomorrow. Maybe every day from now on.”

“Of course, my love,” Aziraphale said just as he dragged his teeth lightly across Crowley’s skin.

They kissed and they kissed and they kissed. 

“Nearly midnight now,” Crowley whispered against Aziraphale’s lips. “Shall we count it down?”

Aziraphale shuddered a little bit at the suggestion. “I only ever want to begin each new phase of time with kissing you, my darling. Indulge me, won’t you?”

Didn’t Crowley always?

They kissed and kissed until they wore themselves out. (They were 6,000 years old, after all.) This time Crowley pulled himself away, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on Aziraphale’s forehead before twining their fingers together and settling back against the sofa. Aziraphale snapped his fingers and the forgotten quilt fell perfectly across the pair of them. Eager, early fireworks crackled across the sky outside of the shop windows. 

“Will you stay tonight, Crowley?” Aziraphale wondered, stroking his thumb over Crowley’s hand. 

“As long as you want, angel,” Crowley promised. 

_This year, next year, forever, always._

So, as the rest of the world cheered and sparkled around them, Aziraphale and Crowley drifted off to sleep beside one another, finally, finally confident a New Year would come.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you very much for reading! Happy New Year!


End file.
